


To Catch a Snitch

by JET_Playin



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Birthday, Enemies to Friends, Fluff, Flying, Getting Together, HP: EWE, M/M, Mutual Pining, Oblivious Draco Malfoy, Pining, Post Hogwarts AU, Quidditch, Surprise Party, Surprises
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-03
Updated: 2018-04-03
Packaged: 2019-04-18 02:39:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,360
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14203266
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JET_Playin/pseuds/JET_Playin
Summary: It's Draco's responsibility to get Harry to his surprise party.





	To Catch a Snitch

**Author's Note:**

  * For [GoldenTruth813](https://archiveofourown.org/users/GoldenTruth813/gifts).



> HAPPY BIRTHDAY JANEL!!! I'm sorry this is late, but it just means it's still your birthday, right? ;p I hope you enjoy this!
> 
> Big thanks to Katerine Black for the beta! 
> 
> Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter or any of its characters.

Inhaling deeply, Harry breathed in the heavy scents of late summer evening as his feet sank deep into overgrown grass and the last of the daytime animals called their goodbyes for the short night. Even without his eyesight, he moved easily through the unfamiliar terrain, stepping carefully over debris, around fallen branches and the occasional gnome hole. Strictly speaking, Harry didn't need the hand on his elbow to guide him; Draco's shuffling steps and quiet curses would suffice - it was for the best, really, that he'd chosen to pursue a potions mastery as he'd make a shit auror. 

But Harry wasn't going to say so. It wasn't often he was allowed so close to his tight arsed nemesis-turned-colleague. And fuck if he didn't want to be so close to him… 

With that in mind, Harry scuffed his foot along an obvious stone, which sent him stumbling into Draco's side with more force than was likely necessary. Oh, well. 

“Sorry,” Harry muttered, taking longer than he actually needed to regain his footing. “Maybe it would help if I didn't have this bloody blindfold on.” 

Truer words had never been spoken. With the cool evening breeze, the clear sky and bright, waxing gibbous moon forecast for the evening, Draco was sure to make an alluring sight. As he righted himself, Harry could smell the citrus scent that clung to Draco's long, straight hair. Lifting a hand under the guise of seeking balance, he caught a few strands where they swung low on his back, perpetually tied in a severe tail that screamed practicality. 

“We're here, aren't we? Do I really need to keep wearing this?” 

“We are not ‘here’, Potter,” Draco scoffed, widening his stance to support Harry's weight. “We're still a few metres away, and I'll not have you spoil the surprise.”

Harry chuckled at the reprimand, but straightened and followed dutifully behind. “I'm already surprised,” he said conversationally. “I was beginning to think you didn't like me. Yet here you are, treating me to a birthday surprise. How did I get to be so lucky?”

“Don't flatter yourself, Potter. I drew the short straw and your friends are… Formidable.” A gentle pressure on his arm directed Harry to angle left but he hesitated, resulting in another collision. “For fuck’s sake, aren't you supposed to be an auror? Why is this so difficult?”

“You drew the short straw?” Harry asked, ignoring the outburst and continuing forward. “That means it's your job to get me to the surprise party, doesn't it?” 

“Of course.” Pausing, Draco seemed to contemplate where to go next. 

Harry didn't bother wasting the breath it would take to sigh, fully aware of his friends’ tendency to make a fuss over his birthday. He appreciated it, of course, having missed so many birthdays in his childhood, but their antics amused him more than anything else. Besides, this was the first time, in the five years Draco had attended his surprise parties, that he was chosen to lure Harry to the event. 

He wouldn't trade this opportunity for anything. He was relatively sure Draco didn't want what he did, but Harry was reluctant to give up on the idea. In spite of the spectacular rejection of a month ago. He was almost certain Draco thought he was drunk that night, though, so there could be hope, yet. 

“So, what's the prelude this year?” he asked, pushing his thoughts aside and aiming for playful. “Will I need my wand? Come, Draco, gimme a hint.”

“That's not how surprises work, Potter. Now, be quiet. I'm trying to think.”

Harry huffed, but fell silent and, after a moment, Draco started off again. They'd only walked another metre or so when he let out a soft  _ aha!  _ and released Harry's arm. 

“Wait here a moment,” Draco said, his voice already a short distance away, and Harry did sigh.

He dropped himself to sit cross-legged where Draco left him, plucking at blades of grass as he listened to the methodical movements. Draco was casting in a wide circle around them, likely muggle repellent and disillusionment charms. That could mean a few different things, though. 

Technically, if they were having the actual party here, they would have set the wards earlier. The sounds of the night was another clue; even if they used silencing charms, the surrounding wildlife would surely respond to a large group of people. No, Harry was reasonably certain they were alone. 

Since Draco was unlikely to agree to anything regarding nature or wild animals, that only left flying. Which suited Harry just fine. His schedule didn't allow much time for pick up matches and it had been months since he'd mounted a broom. Perhaps Draco even stood a chance against him. 

Grinning, Harry settled into his spot and waited patiently for Draco to finish. 

-

Gods, how did Draco allow himself to be dragged into this mess? “It'll be easy,” they said. “It's just a seeker’s game,” they said. 

Nothing about the evening had been easy, so far, and Draco had no reason to believe that would change before Potter caught the snitch and ended his torment. It wasn't even that far a walk, yet the man had managed to crash into Draco no less than five times, invading his space with his tall, ridiculously charming person and filling his senses with the dark, musky scent of man. 

Draco didn't quite know how to handle it. He never came into close contact with Potter, intentionally keeping his distance, avoiding close quarters, dark corners. It wasn't always easy, considering the fusion of their friend groups - thanks to Greg’s affinity for the flighty sincerity of Luna Lovegood, and Draco couldn't even blame him. The girl was delightful, damn her. 

But the whole situation left Draco in the uncomfortable position of close proximity to one Harry fucking Potter. That was the last thing Draco needed. After years of working to rebuild his reputation - if not his family's - countless hours spent studying, sitting for his N.E.W.T.s, then his potions mastery… Frankly, he thought he was past the stress of worrying over every move he made. 

Because, of course, all he needed was to let slip his foolish schoolboy crush on the Golden Boy of the wizarding world for everything he'd built to come crashing down around his ears. And he refused to let that happen. Unfortunately, that meant long nights in dim pubs trying to ignore the fact that Potter was a flirty drunk. It meant avoiding him at social gatherings, even his birthday parties. It meant remaining professional when the deep, hypnotic voice threatened his focus during briefings at the ministry. 

It meant a constant state of unbearable arousal and countless hours of internal reprimands that may have bordered on self harm, a time or two. 

“Draco?” Potter called, pitching his voice just loud enough to carry to Draco where he hesitated at the boundary of their makeshift Quidditch pitch. “Are you finished? Can I take this blindfold off, yet?” 

Sighing, Draco started back across the field, oblivious to the tranquility of the summer evening,marching as if braced for battle. Which he was. A battle of wills he fought daily. Coming to a stop more than a foot away, he dug a little box from his pocket and opened it, releasing the snitch before using his wand to remove the cloth that covered the most dangerous eyes he'd ever seen. As Potter blinked up at him, he dropped a broom at the man's feet. Those eyes didn't register surprise, but they definitely lit with delight.

“Brilliant!” he exclaimed, snatching up the broom and rising swiftly. “One on one? Where's your broom?” 

“I don't have one,” Draco lied, jambing a fist on his hip and gesturing skyward. “You just, I don't know. Fly around in circles a few times and catch the snitch. Think you can manage that?” 

Potter's eyes narrowed as he frowned. “You're not going to play?” he asked, his tone just short of crestfallen. “You expect me to play alone, on my birthday, while you just sit and watch?” 

“I won't be watching,” Draco said, darting his own eyes away. He wouldn't dare. Watching Potter fly was likely as hazardous as flying with him. “I brought a book. You just, you know, go fetch the snitch.”

“Oh, no,” Potter sniggered, snagging Draco's wrist as he attempted to escape. “I know how this works. You're supposed to play with me. Come on. You don't want to lose by default, do you?”

Sure, it wasn’t expected, but Draco actually had no problem with that idea. And he said so. “Thank you, but no. I'm not in the mood for flying.”

He could ignore the way his voice stuttered when Potter vaulted onto his broom and into the air in one fluid motion, but those eyes locked onto his and he felt the distinct stuttering of his heart in direct response to the almost primal expression in their depths. 

“Scared, Malfoy?” he asked, cocking a predatory grin, and Draco felt suddenly powerless against it.

Shaking his head in defeat, he summoned his own broom and sighed. “Fine, Potter. I want to go on the record saying I think this is a bad idea.”

The grin turned triumphant and Potter let out a whoop, circling around him as Draco lifted off. “Why is it a bad idea?” he asked. “And how could it be a worse idea than playing a seeker’s game alone? On my birthday?” 

“I'm here, Potter, you can lay off the pity routine.” Annoyance. Yes, and disdain. That was how to best deal with this change in plans. “Let's just get this over with, please.”

Laughing, Potter drifted closer, then back, taunting him. “Come on. It's been ages since I was up on a broom. I'll race you!” 

Before Draco could refuse, he was off, streaking across the star strewn sky, his laughter ringing through the night. All he could do was watch him go, frozen by the force of his attraction. Merlin, why must Potter be so bloody  _ likable _ ? 

Shooting off after him just as Potter turned back, Draco quickly closed the distance between them, lowering his body against the broom handle to lower wind resistance as well as avoid eye contact. If he was going to do this, he was definitely going to win. He couldn't let Potter beat him; there was too much at stake. 

-

Harry gave chase, thrilled that he'd managed to goad Draco into playing along. After all, what was the point in a game with only one player? 

Draco was in fair form. It was as if the years melted away and they were fifteen years old again, rushing to outdo each other, striving to prove who was the best. Only, this time, Harry hoped the results would be much more… Mutually beneficial than the fist fight of fifth year. As he gained speed, pulling up on the tail of the recent model Nimbus, Draco darted quick glances over his shoulder and veered left with a smirk. 

Delighted, Harry followed, happy to play this game for as long as he could. They were neck and neck, flying in tandem. Harry anticipated every move and, if his smooth parry was any indication, Draco was doing the same. The result was stunning; intricate patterns and daring stunts as they flew close enough to brush shoulders one moment, swinging away in opposite directions the next. Looping around one another, zipping back and forth… dancing on air. 

When Draco laughed, such a rare sound he had learned, Harry stared. For the space of a heartbeat, he didn't steer his broom, didn't change coarse, barely breathed. In the moonlight, with the orbs of light he'd set below, Draco shone. His pin-straight hair had fallen loose of its practical knot and streamed out behind him, his shoulders squared but relaxed, and his head was thrown back in sheer, unadulterated joy. 

Harry already knew he was lost, but… Fuck. 

Suddenly, Draco tilted his head a fraction to right, his eyes catching on something across the field. Harry followed his gaze to the glint of gold fluttering in the distance. Shaking himself from his daze, he looped around, pulling up alongside Draco, amused when he jolted in surprise. 

“Do you want to catch the snitch?” he asked, his voice low and, he hoped, inviting. “Already? I could do this all night.”

With a little shake of his head, Draco turned to him, nodded. “Of course,” he said matter-of-factly. “We don't have all night.”

“Shame,” Harry muttered as Draco shot ahead of him in pursuit of the little golden ball. 

“You're out of practice, Potter,” Draco sneered when Harry caught him up, lifting his voice over the rush of wind. “I didn't realise beating you would be this easy!” 

Laughing, Harry put on a burst of speed, closing in on, then passing him entirely. “Sorry,” he shouted, throwing caution to the wind. “You'll have to try harder than that, pretty boy!”

Visibly shocked, Draco froze in midair, jerking his broom handle back and staring at Harry like he'd grown an extra head. Harry turned his attention back to his task, chuckling. Tripping Draco up was not his intention, but a nice bonus as far as he was concerned. 

-

Cursing himself for his reaction to the taunt, Draco spurred his broom into motion, streaking after Potter as fast as he could. It was ridiculous, allowing the ploy to succeed. But it wouldn't last. He couldn't even bring himself to care that he'd shock their friends by arriving at the party without the guest of honor. Nor that someone would have to go back to collect him. 

Determined, he pushed harder, matched Potter turn for turn, until they were side by side again. The muscles in his jaw twitched with the pressure of his grinding teeth, his eyes locked on the muted glint in the bright evening light in spite of the warmth he felt pouring from Potter’s limbs, so close to his as they tore through the night. 

They were gaining on the snitch; a metre, a foot, mere centimetres. Draco shifted his grip on the broom handle, stretching one hand out until it hovered in the periphery of his vision. Almost there… 

Suddenly, another hand entered his view, darker, broader, a stark contrast to his own. Ignoring it, he pushed forward, fingers itching to close around the golden ball whose etchings were so clear at such a small distance. With a finial burst of speed, he dove forward, the moment hanging impossibly long, the beat of miniature silver wings crashing against his skin, before time sped up and he was careening, head over heels, through empty air. A strange warmth spread over his hand as the magic hooked him behind his navel and hurled him through space. 

“Surprise!” came the chorus of shouts as he landed, sprawled across the marble floor of the vast ballroom at the Parkinson’s summer home in Versailles. 

Groaning, Draco tried to rise to at least a sitting position. But he couldn't move. The tittering laughter beginning to sweep the room was his next clue that something was off, but the third dawned on him more gradually. 

The weight pinning him to the floor was heavy, warm, and smelled distractingly of wood and earth and man. And it was shaking with laughter. Groaning again, he opened one eye, which focused first on the hand still wrapped around the snitch. 

Or, more accurately, the hand still wrapped around  _ his  _ around the snitch. 

“Good game,” Potter chuckled, his voice low in Draco's ear. 

Draco turned his head, wracking his brain for a witty retort, and came face to face with the man he'd been actively avoiding for years. The intense emerald eyes laughed into his, as Potter made no move to extricate himself. 

“You come here often?” Potter asked, smirking when Draco remained silent, unable to form words around the lump in his throat. “Tell you what, pretty boy. After we get off this ridiculously uncomfortable floor, I'll buy you a drink and we can take this one step at a time, yeah?” 

“Wh-what?” Draco stammered. Surely, his brain would restart soon. Right? 

“Well, I reckon this is a bit too soon to be so… Horizontal together. Don't you think?” 

His eyes twinkled and their friends were still laughing. His face heating, Draco scowled. “Thank you, Potter. I'm sure I wasn't already humiliated enough. Do you mind?” 

Potter’s eyes widened a bit before he frowned and levered himself up. Using the hand he still held, he pulled Draco to his feet, then held fast when he would have pulled away. 

“I'm sorry, Draco. I didn't mean to-” 

“It's fine Potter. Just- let me go, please.”

He did, but held Draco in place with a pleading look. “What did I do?” he asked, his voice low. Everyone had moved off and were milling about with food and drinks, but he still seemed inclined to keep this conversation private. “Okay, so you don't want- but, can't we at least be friends?”

“Friends?” Draco asked, unable to force his mind to produce anything more scathing. “You want to be friends with me?” 

“Well, no,” Potter said, averting his eyes when something like guilt crossed his features. Lifting a hand, he combed it through his hair, throwing the mass of dark curls into further disarray. “But you're making it unavoidably clear you don't want what I do, so that leaves friendship, doesn't it?”

“What are you talking about, Potter?” Unsure what else to do with it, Draco shoved the snitch into his pocket as he eyed Potter suspiciously. “What is it you want from me, exactly?” 

“What do you- don't you remember? I asked you to dinner a month ago.”

Draco snorted. “You did not.”

“I did.” His eyes widened again, and Potter nodded slowly. “You laughed at me and walked away. And I flirt with you constantly.”

The blood drained from his face, leaving him lightheaded, and Draco frowned. “No, you- I- wait. You were drunk! You're always drunk when you flirt with me.”

“No, I wasn't…”

“Yes! I came to the pub later than usual and you were already pissed,” Draco insisted. Remembering the way Potter giggled and swayed closer when he'd cornered Draco at the bar, he shook his head in disbelief. “You were definitely-” 

“I wasn't. And I flirt with you  _ constantly _ .” Shuffling closer, now, he caught Draco's hand again, squeezed it. “So, you thought I was drunk. Okay. Would your answer have been any different if you hadn't?” 

He sounded so earnest, his eyes boring into Draco's. But Draco didn't know what to say. Would he have reacted differently? He was so afraid of losing what he'd built because of being hopelessly enamored with Harry Potter, but… if Potter asked, that meant he was interested, too. That wasn't nearly as detrimental, was it? 

Taking a deep breath to steady the nerves pricking along his arms and down his spine, Draco squared his shoulders and answered as truthfully as he could. “I don't know.” Potter’s face fell, but Draco wasn't finished. “I likely would have assumed you were taking the piss, then. So… why don't you try again? Now?”

A smile spread slowly across Potter’s face, accompanied by an increase of pressure on the hand he still held and mirrored by the lopsided grin forming on Draco's face. “Yeah. Yeah, I could do that.” Laughing nervously, he cleared his throat. “Draco, would you like to have dinner with me?” 

Heat rose in Draco, filling his chest and threatening to spill from his eyes, but he held it back, biting his lip to contain the ridiculous laughter that wanted to bubble out of him. Glancing up through his lashes as he ducked his head, he smiled. “How about you buy me a drink, and we take this one step at a time?” 

With a delighted laugh, Potter turned and dragged him through the crowd of their friends, looking for the bar Pansy was sure to have arranged. And Draco laughed as he followed, flying with Potter for the second time that night. 

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! If you haven't already, go check out Goldentruth's work!

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [After the Snitch is Caught](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14866751) by [Sugaredsundrop](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sugaredsundrop/pseuds/Sugaredsundrop)




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